Daddy's Shoes
by supernaturalbuffy
Summary: When he was a kid, Dean always wanted to be like his Dad. Now, as an adult, he's not sure he's ready for that responsibility quite yet. Just a shot story about remembering and sorrow. Set after episode 2.01


DADDY'S SHOES

_Disclaimer: They're not mine. I don't own anything except the idea for the story._

_A/N: This story is dedicated to my Aunt G. who always believed in remembering family. R.I.P. 1943-2008_

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"Daddy, look!"

John looked up to see Dean, his four year old son, shuffle into the living room wearing his pajamas and his father's work boots. John couldn't help the laugh that escaped him and Dean raised his tousled blond head to look at his father with a big grin on his face.

"Wha…what do you think you're doing?" John asked as he tried desperately not to laugh at the sight before him.

Dean just giggled and looked down at the big, black boots that just about swallowed him up and then back up at his Dad. "I'm you." He tried to take another step and then promptly fell forward as the toe of the boot caught the edge of the carpet.

John quickly reached forward to catch him before he fell and both father and son laughed as John picked Dean up and swung him up into his arms leaving the boots lying on the floor. "Well I think you've got a little bit of growing to do before you can fill _those_ boots."

"What are you two doing?" Mary said in mock seriousness as she came out of the kitchen and smiled at the sight of the two men in her life.

John and Dean turned to Mary and then back at each other before grinning conspiratorially. "Oh, nothing," John finally said. "Dean was just showing me how big he's getting."

Dean just giggled again and hugged his Dad before crawling down and heading over to his mom.

Mary leaned down to give him a hug and Dean ran his fingers through her loose hair, smelling the light scent of lilacs as he gave her a kiss on her cheek. "Morning, Dean." When Mary straightened up again, Dean put his hands on her swollen belly and leaned against it as if listening. Mary and John just exchanged an amused look and shook their heads. "What do you hear, Sweetie?" Mary asked and brushed her fingers through Dean's curly hair.

Dean just looked up at her and smiled. "Sam says he's hungry?"

Both John and Mary just laughed. Dean had always thought from the moment that he knew he was going to be a big brother that it was going to be a little brother but of course they wouldn't know for sure until it was time whether it was a boy or a girl.

"Okay, well why don't you go and sit down at the kitchen table. I made pancakes," Mary said with a big smile knowing how much Dean liked pancakes.

Dean's eyes lit up with excitement and he scurried towards the table leaving both Mary and John to just laugh at his enthusiasm for breakfast.

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Dean sat on the edge of his bed feeling as if every breath was a challenge and let the sounds around him wash over him until they were just static. They didn't matter. Nothing mattered just then. He just felt…empty. Like everything was muted and even just the simple act of sitting there was just too much at the moment.

_How could this have happened? He had been fine before. But then… _

Dean closed his eyes at the barrage of thoughts trying to shut everything out and felt the everyday sounds intensify around him until it was almost a deafening roar that was just-

"Dean?"

Dean's eyes snapped open and he quickly looked to find his brother standing next to him. Sam's eyes were red and puffy looking and his face looked pasty white, the dark bruises covering one side of his face standing out against the white skin.

"Hey, I uh…got the papers," Sam said his voice sounding husky as he shoved a stack of papers at Dean's chest.

Dean looked down at them dumbly for a moment trying to remember what they were for before things finally started to come together. "Uh…yeah." And boy did his voice sound terrible. Gritty and small and everything that he usually wasn't. He took the papers from Sam's hand trying to remember how to make his fingers work and then started looking around for a pen. "Sam, do you…"

Sam was holding a pen out to him and Dean just looked at it for a moment before he slowly reached to take it looking anywhere but at his brother's sad eyes. "Thanks," he managed to mumble before putting pen to paper. When he was finished he clicked the top of the pen closed and then reached for his coat that was lying on the edge of the bed. "You ready?"

Sam just nodded mutely and waited for Dean to lead the way out.

It had taken Sam forever to convince the doctors to let Dean go, but finally after a lot of cajoling, demanding, and finally promising to make sure that Dean rested; Sam was able to sign his brother out AMA. Now they just had to…take care of their Dad.

Just the thought of that made Sam's stomach clench and he had to swallow hard to keep from crying again. He couldn't cry right now. Not in front of Dean. Not until… He thought about the last thing he had said to his Dad and now…there was no taking it back. God he wished he could take it back.

As they walked to the elevator Sam watched his brother out of the corner of his eye. Dean was just… Sam wasn't sure what Dean was, but he knew that losing their father was going to take some time to get over. The man had meant everything to his brother. And now that he was gone? Sam just hoped that Dean would survive this.

The elevator dinged its arrival snapping both brothers out of their thoughts and both stared as the doors slid open neither moving from their spot. They had done been here a million times before, but never had they had to be here from something like this before. There hadn't been anything to do with Jess and they were both too young when their Mom died.

Finally, the doors started to close and Sam reached a hand out to stop it from closing effectively breaking the moment and he could see Dean swallow hard before stepping out of the elevator and head towards the door marked Morgue.

Dean stood back letting Sam take care of most of the paperwork and what to do with their dad's bo...

Dean stuttered to a halt not even able to say the word let alone think it. He could never think that about his Dad, his hero. Never.

Finally after what seemed like only a moment but was probably longer, Sam was standing beside him again and motioning that it was okay to go. They pushed through the double doors and into the other room and shuffled over to where their dad was lying on a table covered by a sheet. As the sheet was pulled back Dean couldn't help but think that he looked like he was just sleeping.

"When can we take him home?" Sam asked in whispered tones not wanting to say the word buried and tried to clear the emotions that were stuck tight in his throat.

"As soon as the autopsy is done," the Coroner was saying and both boys looked up at him startled.

"What? No, you can't…" Sam started and after that Dean's mind just shut down.

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Dean threw more wood onto the pile with a mechanical movement not even knowing for sure what he was doing. He was like he was just an observer in his own body. Just going on instinct until this was over. Until he could... When the pile was big enough he finally turned and met Sam's emotion filled eyes with his own vacant ones before turning farther to see their Dad's body.

Sam had worked his magic and legal skills to get their father out of the morgue and now he was lying on the ground, a dark blanket wrapped around him as he waited for his final resting place. Dean walked over to him with jerky motions and kneeled down not noticing the wet ground soaking through his pant legs and then brought his eyes up to look at his Dad's face. Dean reached out to trace the slight wrinkles around his father's eyes and then ran his fingers along the faded scar that ran along his father's forehead and back into his hair. Dean never knew where that scar came from and each time he had asked his Dad would just shrug it off. Finally resting his hand on his father's hair he swallowed hard against the lump in his throat and blinked back a few tears. He couldn't cry, not yet anyway. Taking a deep breath he finally pulled the blanket up over his Dad's head and tied it in place.

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Long after the last of the fire had died, both Sam and Dean stood staring at where their Dad had been. Finally, Sam turned to head back to the car they had borrowed from Bobby and hesitated hoping that Dean would follow. As Dean turned, Sam met his eyes for one brief moment and felt his heart break all over again. Empty, shuttered eyes caught emotion filled ones for just a second before turning away again and Sam could feel his tears start anew at the obvious loss of his brother as well as his father. Both boys walked to the car in silence and Dean stopped at the trunk as Sam moved around to the passenger side of the car. Sam watched as Dean hesitated at the trunk before lifting the lid and putting the gas can away but didn't ask if he needed help. If Dean needed a moment, he could give his brother at least that. After another long moment, he finally got in and closed the door hoping that maybe if Dean would let him, he could be the rock for his brother that Dean had been for him when Jess had died. _Please, just let me help you._

Dean stood at the trunk of the car with the lid up and just stared at its contents. The only things in it were an axe, shovel, gas can, and…John's boots. Dean hadn't been able to put them on his father's feet and now there they sat.

Dean hesitantly moved his hand away from the gas can and shakily ran his fingers over the worn leather. Feeling the softness that came from use and many miles walked and then down to the contrasting hard, thick soles which brought memories to the surface that had long been buried. For as long as he could remember, his father had always worn the same kind of boots. Hard, rubber sole; long, black laces with hook-eyes; and holes made of silver that after time became tarnished and faded. As he looked at them in the dim light of the trunk he could see the mottling of probably blood, sweat, and dirt crisscrossing the worn leather and smiled slightly at the thought of what they must have seen. The brand may have changed, but the style always stayed the same.

Without thinking, he picked them up and then sat down on the edge of the trunk. As he undid his own black work boots he could feel the tears start to brim in his eyes and quickly tried to blink them back in case Sam came to see what was happening. He couldn't let his little brother see him crying like a baby now could he? Slipping one of his own boots off, he picked up one of his father's gently and slipped it on to his own foot. As he did up the final lace on the second boot he just sat there for a moment and looked at his feet. His father's boots, that had always seemed impossibly big to fill, hugged his feet like a second skin and he gave a sad, little smile as a lone tear fell from his eyes. He stood up, still looking down at his feet, and gave a strangled huff of a laugh.

"Look, Dad…they fit."

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_A/N: Please let me know what you think by pushing that button and sending me a review. I always like to hear what you think. Until next time._


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